Chance
by Lutralutra
Summary: Tsunade was always hoping for chances, but this time not for herself. She prayed it wouldn't be the first or last.


Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto, but I'd really like to get that snazzy title font...

The Tsunade-Orochimaru-Jiraiya dynamic and its painful pitfalls have always intrigued me, and I've brainstormed about writing it many times. I thought the easiest way to approach the subject would be to connect it to the current Sakura-Sasuke-Naruto bond, which is so similar. This particular story, however, focuses slightly on Sakura's point of view, and mostly on Tsunade's remembrances and regrets.

Anyway, it's quite short, but I would definitely appreciate readers and reviewers. Too angsty? Wordy? You decide.

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**Chance **

**by LutraShinobi**

"Tsunade-sama..."

The Godaime Hokage knew that tone well from past experience with her student; it was reserved for the most important questions, the ones that Sakura believed could mean life or death. Tsunade had never been the type to ask questions in such a manner; but in a lot of ways, Sakura was more brilliant than she, and a good teacher never denied a good pupil any knowledge that could possibly be provided.

Training had already gone an hour overtime, but beyond a slightly sweat-streaked face, Sakura showed no sign of exhaustion as she stood by the window, her thin, pale legs close together. A few locks of pink hair were lifted and crisscrossed in midair by a stray breeze that breathed gently into the office, but she didn't reach up to pat them into place. She stayed very still, in fact, the only part of her that showed any movement being the light in her emerald eyes, which were alternately softened and hardened, brightened and darkened by the moon's fickle rays as they rebounded from those serene pools.

"...do you really think there's any chance of us bringing back Sasuke-kun?"

Tsunade swivelled slowly until she was facing head-on the bony outline of Sakura's shoulder blades. She crossed her arms over her chest, willing the stiffness that had suddenly shot up her spine to ease. This question was close, very close, to memories that she had tried so hard to drown in sake and gambling during all those wandering years.

"Sakura -" she began, then halted before her voice could slip into a sigh. After decades of denying weakness with all the fierceness in her heart, it pained her to feel how one stab could bend all her shields inward like flimsy plastic.

She didn't know what to say, and she could only admit it in silence. She didn't know, not when she remembered that pale, swarthy face with black eyes that became slicker each day and a smile that became less genuine as time wore on. A face that had never faded, that held all the guile in the world, and still she'd been blind, blind to it until the last moment. And she knew from experience that the last moment was always too late.

He'd been a bit cruel, a bit cynical, from the start, but that was how a shinobi had to be. He had never hated the taste of blood on his tongue, never hesitated before the blow. She could only try not to imagine how wrenchingly simple it had been for him to plunge the sword into her chest. And yet even as he had, even as his betrayal had burned fresh, her agony had lessened a little just to hear him speak her name.

She'd relinquished a portion of her own power to him, and even if she would never have permitted him to suck her dry, she couldn't quite get back what she'd given. She could tell with every lesson learned that Sakura had given even more to that narrowly handsome boy, and that realization cramped her heart in its small chambers.

When you fought somebody you loved, it was only because it was the last resort. Before that, you fought your enemies, you fought what you thought mistakenly was fate, you fought yourself until you'd exhausted all your techniques and lost every battle over and over. Then, broken, you returned at last to reality. Sakura had reached that angst-fraught stage much faster than she had, but it wasn't enough. Not even the pain, which sometimes seemed so harshly material that Tsunade was tempted to try to beat it against the wall with her fists, was enough to prepare you for what was to come with that final acceptation of truth.

Shinobi were taught that the only thing to do was fight, a paradoxical method for an order whose goal was to keep the peace for all civilians and peoples. It brought strength; it saved lives. It broke some hearts with too many variables and discrepancies, and it contaminated others with indestructible absolutes and fixed ideas. But it was a way of life, and conflicts were too complicated for anything more than the simplest philosophies.

Tsunade knew it would take her many more years of dedicated service to Konoha to make up for her failures, sins and ignored penances. But Sakura's rap sheet was blank so far, and though that meant a lack of experience, it also meant more chances, a greater future. A better sacrifice, and a purer soul for salvation.

She looked at that bubble-gum hair, cut so jaggedly short in a moment of defiance (and hope, to protect what was precious). She looked at those eyes, tears swimming just below the surface as proof of compassion (and hope, to be shed for joy). She looked at that kunoichi, mind developing adeptly and heart beating strongly with youth (and hope, to win an opportunity for tomorrow). No, the pain wasn't enough, but maybe all that created the love of Haruno Sakura was.

She stepped up beside her prized student and smiled with more honesty than she had in years. "There's always a chance."

And despite history, she believed it.

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A/N: I'm thinking about writing an additional piece to add to this, which centres around Jiraiya and Naruto and the parallels there as well. Please let me know if you think this is good idea or not. Also, comments and criticism are welcome - be as constructive as possible, because I love, and can use, the help. 

Thank you:)


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